Mr Stats and the Bingo Boinker
by bornonhalloween
Summary: A casino is no place for an actuary, but when Edward promises his mother a trip to Foxwoods for her 60th birthday, he has no choice but to suck it up. When fate seats Edward next to a full-time bingo player named Bella Jean, will luck be a lady tonight?
1. Chapter 1

**Mr. Stats and the Bingo Boinker**_  
>An Apocalyptic birthday tale about playing the odds<em>

*** CHAPTER 1 ***

"Are you positive you're going to be okay down here by yourself?"

"Yes, Ma. I'm thirty-four. I think I can manage to sit at a bar alone and have a drink." Or three.

She patted my cheek with her hand, curling her fingertips around the scruff I know she wished I'd shave. "Such a pretty face we gave you under all that scraggle." Heavy sigh. "Well, good night, then, son. Come knock on my door at 7:40 so we have plenty of time for the buffet."

"7:40? The first game starts at 10:30!"

Mom shook her head sadly. _For such a smart boy…_ "Doors open at eight, sweetheart."

"We're sitting in the bingo hall for two hours before even starting the mind-numbing—"

Her hand fell away, her ever-patient smile giving way to a disappointed frown. I was lower than the dust motes on the Native American-inspired carpeting.

Mom cupped my chin and lifted my gaze from the floor. "Edward, I told you I'm fine playing alone; I do it all the time. You should sleep in, enjoy your vacation, have a massage. Meet me at Alta Strada for dinner."

"Of course I'm not doing that! I brought you here to help you celebrate your birthday."

"And you're a love." Mom released my chin and smiled. "Your father would've been so proud of you, especially knowing how prickly you get inside casinos. You're a prince, Edward."

Felt more like a worm than a prince at the moment. I wasn't worthy of shoveling the royal stables.

I've always considered myself successful—I have a secure job with a decent salary and dental coverage. I own a three-bedroom house in Groton, Connecticut, plenty of space for a hypothetical wife and two kids. I work out five days a week, and I have the body to show for it—not steroid-puffed or anything, but solid enough. I know how to dress, and I'm not afraid to put my metrosexual out there. If I'm occasionally mistaken for gay? So what. I'm not homophobic. Hell, it's a compliment nowadays—translation: _you're hip, interesting, stylish, edgy._

People think winning is about luck, but luck didn't get me where I am today. Logic, data, and careful planning—that's how "good luck" is made. The large majority of time, if x is supposed to happen, by golly, x happens. I'm careful. I do my homework, calculate the odds, and plot my life's path according to the probabilities. That all said, a guy's Ma is a guy's Ma, and a promise is a promise, and I needed not to be an ass.

"I'll see you at 7:40, Ma. Have a good rest. You need your energy for tomorrow. We are gonna bonk ourselves silly. Oh, wait, that didn't come out right."

"Good night, dear. Have fun."

"Night, Ma."

Turning away from the elevator bank, I heard the security guard. "May I see your key, young lady?"

And Mom's chuckled retort. "Ha! Who are you calling a lady?"

*** BINGO ***

The Halo Bar was quiet and dark—two qualities that worked with tonight's mood. Ma was right; I was prickly.

I took the end seat at the mostly empty bar and ordered a shot of Herradura Silver on the rocks. If anything could get me through this experience, it was tequila.

The bartender set down the drink on a napkin spun neatly in place and promptly produced a bowl of salty snacks. "Cheers!"

"Cheers," I repeated, raising my glass and eyeing the clear liquid.

_Trust me?_

Hardly. I shook my head at myself for talking to my drink.

"Y'okay, buddy?" Oh, fantastic. Now the bartender was worried.

"Fine, thanks," I said. I pulled the tequila into my mouth and floated the cool burn on my tongue. I swallowed that sip and drew in some more. The back of my throat stung a little less each time, and it was nearly numb by the time the last gulp went down.

I plunked down my glass next to the bottle conveniently left in front of me, and the bartender obliged. "Would you like to see a menu?"

"No, thanks. I'm just drinking."

He shot me another cautious glance before capping off the Herradura. "Name's Jasper. Let me know if you need anything."

"Just keep me lubricated, my friend."

Jasper gave me a kind smile and an I'll-leave-you-alone-for-a-while nod. "You got it."

I swirled the glass, working the ice through the drink. Went down easier cold.

_Maybe you should slow down a bit. _

Fuck that. Tomorrow's agenda consisted of eleven hours in a windowless room, violating every principle of my carefully constructed belief system. I didn't need one of my actuarial tables to tell me this little bingo junket was going to be a losing proposition; bingo is a sucker's game.

_Someone has to win; it might as well be me,_ argues every bingo player everywhere. _The more cards I play, the better my odds. _

People! It's about risk and reward, expected return on your investment. Ach, seriously, I couldn't even convince my own mother. How could I expect to convert the 3,600 drones who took up daily residence inside one of the world's largest bingo halls?

Jasper refreshed me and walked tactfully away. My head was getting fuzzy. When was the last time I'd . . .? Oh yes, Emmett's bachelor party. My stomach spasmed, but the unpleasant memory didn't stop me from filling my cheeks with tequila. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes.

A screech and a rustle next to me caused a ripple in my almost tranquil bubble. I opened my eyes as the brown-haired goddess smiled at the bartender. "Hey, Jazz. Got my burger?"

"You bet, beautiful." He set down a highball glass in front of her and dragged over the long, rubber hose from the soda fountain. "Be right back."

What were the odds that a girl my exact type would plunk down right next to me in this random bar? I had always been a sucker for a girl with glasses, and how perfect were those bangs that swept across her forehead and rested just behind the frames?

I brought my empty glass to my lips anyway. It was the only prop I had to hide behind.

"You know, I can see you in the mirror," she said.

I faced the bar, catching my own horrified expression before taking in her reflection. She was smiling, thank God.

Jasper returned just at that moment and shot me a puzzled look while setting down her plate and a big bottle of Heinz. "Halo classic with provolone, extra mushrooms and onions, medium rare. In other words, a Thursday burger."

"Perfect," she said.

Without asking, Jasper twisted off the top of the tequila bottle and refilled my glass. "On the house."

The girl twisted toward me on her stool, dragging a French fry through a puddle of ketchup and thwapped it onto her tongue like an exhausted stripper collapsing onto a waiting bed. _Stripper? Bed?_

"Friend of yours, Jazz?"

Her voice poured over my dirty little fantasy moment, and a blush heated my cheeks. I dared not look in the mirror.

"Yes," he answered. "Bella, meet my new friend . . ."

"Edward. Edward Cullen."

Jazz picked up the thread again. "Edward Cullen, meet Bella."

"Bella Jean," she said. Dipping the end of another fry into the ketchup, she offered it to me in place of a handshake. "Fry?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jasper stepping away again. "No, thanks. Just ate dinner."

"Oh. Here?"

"No, I . . ." Somehow, "took my mother to the food court" didn't seem the cool response. "I grabbed something downstairs." I swirled the drink around on the counter before drawing it to my lips again. "Is Jean your last name?"

She giggled. "Nope." Okay, then.

The drink went down easy, and I helped myself to another large sip. Meeting girls at bars wasn't exactly my thing, and I was glad for the liquid courage. Bella, meanwhile, seemed to be brave enough with her soda.

"Are the gambling gods smiling down at you tonight?" she asked.

"Yes," I said with a chuckle. "I'm even."

"Oh," she said with a sly smile, "you're one of those 'not losing is winning' types, eh?"

Again, I had the strong sense that honesty was not exactly going to impress her. "Nah, I just haven't been inside the casino."

Her eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. "You came here for the shopping?"

Ah, a sense of humor. Okay, then. "Yes, I drove two hours to pick up a pair of pink fuzzy dice at the Wampum Outpost."

She took a bite of her burger and looked me up and down with smiling eyes while she chewed. My sweater felt suffocating; I hoped my forehead wasn't piping out sweat. I waited on tenterhooks while she swallowed. "I wouldn't have pegged you for the fuzzy dice type."

Maybe not dice, but I was feeling mighty fuzzy. _Stay tight,_ the tiny voice of self-preservation whimpered.

"No, not so much." I laughed again. She gave me one of those okay-you're-not-talking looks, and I figured she was about to give up on me if I didn't stop acting like an evasive jerk. "My uh . . . companion . . ." Ugh, that sounded like I'd hired someone to be my nurse. "Actually, it's my mom's birthday tomorrow, and I promised I'd take her to play bingo and then dinner at her favorite restaurant."

While I was blabbing, Bella chewed off another big chunk of meat, nodded, and swiped her tongue across her lips to catch a clump of melted cheese. "That's sweet. Where is she?"

"Oh, she went to bed."

"You're not sharing a room, are you?" Bella giggled.

"Ugh, no. Gross!" I stifled a laugh with my glass.

Bella shrugged and sucked in another fry. "I've seen stranger." Was that a challenge I saw in her eyes?

I tapped my glass on the bar. "I think I'm gonna need a refill."

**_TO BE CONTINUED..._**

* * *

><p>For some reason, Facebook thinks January 1 is <strong>Postapocalypticdepository<strong>'s birthday, but I happen to know it's today, January 4. So here I am, wishing my very sweet friend the happiest of birthdays, and boy, does she deserve it! I don't know that I've ever met a more thoughtful, caring human being. If you don't know her, you're truly missing out on one of the kindest souls around. Seriously- she's on a mission to donate her weight in blood (I think that's an ounce of blood per pound of APOC but I can't be sure with her). Also, she is one hell of a writer, so if I were you, I'd get over to her stories as soon as possible. I happen to love **_Skater Boy and Boarder Girl_** as well as **_Unhinged_**, but there are many to choose from. We did a crazy collabadrabble last year called **_Shake_**, if you dare. Anyway, happy, happy birthday, sweet Apoc!

I would like to thank **Ladyeire** for both the pre-writing brainstorm session (to which I have apparently become addicted) and the awesome banner of crackfic-ness she pulled together. Her original version was very classy- just so you know- but once I mentioned the word "crack," V knew just what to do! And thank you to my sweet **Chayasara** for her editing and humor. Also, special words of thanks to **Jill Peterson** for answering my bingo questions so thoroughly! I'll see you guys in a couple days for the next installment. This won't be terribly long- maybe 5 chapters in all. (famous last words from the pumpkin shell) ANYWAY, thanks for being here and celebrating with me. Give Apoc a kiss if you see her!

**XXX ~BOH**


	2. Chapter 2

*** CHAPTER 2 ***

"Where did you and Mom drive from?" There was a definite smirk behind the french fry.

I needed to clear up the Mama's boy image right now. "I left _my_ home in _Groton, _picked her up at _her house _in _Waterford, _and drove from there."

"Ah."

I'd clearly passed one test, and suddenly I wanted to pass them all. "What about you? Where do you live?"

"Ledyard. Why? Did you want to come home with me?"

There was that smile again. Half tease, all flirt. "Sure," I said, playing along, "but I think you better do the driving."

"Ahem, yeah." We both turned toward the bartender, standing in front of us with folded arms and a mildly amused grimace. "I'd like to keep my job, thank you."

I held up both hands in surrender. "No worries, man. I couldn't find my car with a GPS and a divining rod right now. Took me ten minutes to find a spot and another fifteen to find my way into the casino from the lot. I think it's Rain Dance or some damn thing?"

Bella reached over and slapped my upper arm. "Rain_maker_." She chuckled at me, and I tried to pretend my arm didn't feel like a branding iron had just left its mark. Had she scooted her stool closer? We were rubbing elbows; when had that happened?

"Rainmaker, right. That's it. In any event, I think it's best I leave the Volvo where it is for now."

"Suits me fine, Ed. I'm happy to take the driver's seat."

I glanced in the mirror, too afraid to look directly at the girl and realize I'd imagined the whole thing, but what I saw penetrated the tequila blur. _This girl likes me._ _This could happen. _Time to do a little flirting of my own à la Señor Herradura.

"Hmm, a girl who likes to take control, are you?" I wasn't exactly a guy who relinquished control—ever—but the tequila was lubricating all kinds of tight gears.

Bella giggled; I heard tinkling bells. "If the situation requires it."

Jasper poked the soda snake in front of us and refilled Bella's glass. "Anything else I can get you two? Dessert? After-dinner drink? A room?"

I couldn't blame him for being jealous. This girl was getting prettier by the second, and clearly, she had chosen me.

"Want anything else, Bella?" I asked.

She swiveled in her stool and dazzled me head-on with those glasses. "Most definitely," she said.

_This is it. Don't blow it!_

With my gaze firmly fixed on Bella, I reached into my back pocket and tugged out my wallet. Tossing the whole thing onto the bar, I said, "Put the lady's tab on my room charge."

Jasper smirked, ignoring my wallet. "Room number?"

Moment of truth. Would I say it out loud? What if things fell apart between here and the room? What if she was a whack job who was planning to snuff me out after fucking me? Or worse—before? Was I taking a crazy chance bringing her up to my room? Probably, but unless she had a gun in her purse, I was most likely not going to die tonight.

"2509."

Bella smiled. I wanted to pinch myself to make sure this was real, but what if she saw? Besides, if this was a dream, I was nowhere near ready to wake up.

I waved the pen over the check, adding in an extra five for Jasper.

"Thanks, buddy. You be safe now." He looked back and forth between the two of us, and I wasn't sure which of us he was warning. "See you tomorrow, Bells."

Tomorrow? What the . . .? Something about a Thursday burger veered irritatingly out of reach. Ah, fuck it. I got the girl.

She looped her arm around my elbow and set her head on my shoulder once we reached the hallway. Balance was not easy, and damn, this place was massive! I searched for the elevator bank around every corner, only to be met by more boldly carpeted, seemingly endless hallways littered with souvenir shops, indoor billboards, and tired people dragging each other to unattainable dreams.

We must have made a circle by now. Four right turns . . . Had I lost count? Or was the third turn a left?

"You don't have a gun in your purse, do you?"

"Why, did you want to knock off the Wampum Outpost?" She giggled some more, but I noticed she didn't answer the question.

"Not right now." I stumbled; she righted me.

Twenty-five hundred miles later, we reached the elevators.

"Good evening, sir. May I see your key, please?" The voice of the security guard brought me up short. _Crap. _It was the guy from earlier, the one who'd watched me say goodnight to Ma. There must be some code of ethics, I figured. What happens at Foxwoods . . . surely the Native Americans had worked out some such ethical arrangement with the property management company. At any rate, I avoided eye contact, just pulled out my wallet and flashed him the key card.

"Thank you. You two have a wonderful night," he said.

I gave him an over-the-shoulder wave without looking back.

Bella and I studied the horizontal bars over each elevator, jockeying for position as the bright green lights ticked up and down the floors. Bella tugged me over to the car farthest to the right, pulling me off balance for a scary second. Her hand slid down my arm; her fingers interlocked with mine.

_Naked man found dead in hotel room, stabbed in neck with toothbrush.  
><em>_  
>Unidentified male pushed from 35<em>_th__-story window._

_Apparent heart-attack victim left tied to bed frame. Police suspect foul play._

I'd seen the insurance reports; I knew the odds. Not letting the girl in was the only logical choice.

The elevator doors opened, and we staggered inside; well, I staggered, and she held me up. I closed my eyes to the bright lights and mirrors. A warm body pressed up against my front as my back met the wall with a thud. She kissed me, and I liked it—a lot. Her lips were soft from the greasy dinner. The earthy mix of beef and mushrooms hit my tongue.

I grabbed for more, and she pulled back, laughing. "I guess we gave the guys in the surveillance room something to see."

_Crap._ Casinos. Cameras everywhere. "Maybe we should wait. It's only . . . nine, eight more floors."

"Screw that," she said, grabbing my wrists and slapping my hands on her boobs. Before I could process the situation, she leaned in and kissed me again.

I squeezed her tits; she groaned. I groaned back.

The bell dinged. A female robot announced the floor, and the doors slid open. This was the most fun I'd had in months, but I had my sights set higher. And also lower.

I pushed off the wall and walked her backward out of the elevator, steering with her boobs. We were an awkward four-legged creature, still attached at the lips. She grabbed my ass for support; she squeezed it for fun.

"Make yourself useful," I said, "and get my key while you're back there." We laughed and kissed and stumbled down the hall. "And shh!"

Ma was in the room by the elevator, and I really didn't need her to open her door right now. Bella dug the card out of my wallet, which she kindly returned to my back pocket. The key . . . Well, that went straight down her shirt. She gave me a wicked smile. My pants were getting tight.

A small, sober voice reminded me I'd never acted this way before, and this probably wasn't what I ought to be doing, but the rest of me shooed away the buzzkill.

_Have some fun for a change! Live a little! What could be the harm?_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Oh my god, did I just write a slutty Edward? This might be a first! What about Miss Thursday Burger anyway? Is Edward going to wind up like those other poor trusting bastards? *bites nails* And what about Ma's birthday? Will she ever be able to bingo bonk again? I have so many questions to answer! Got any more for me?

**XXX ~BOH**


	3. Chapter 3

*** CHAPTER 3 ***

She kissed me across the room, giggling when the bed got in my way. With an aggressive shove, she laid me out on my back, legs flopped over the foot of the bed like a pair of limp noodles. I bounced off the mattress, catching big air at first and settling down like a dizzy top. When the bed stopped moving, I opened my eyes to the sight of Bella unclasping her bra.

"Nice."

She smiled at my lame compliment, but I couldn't find two brain cells to rub together. It would have to do. All signs were pointing in the right direction; this girl, bless her heart, wasn't looking for conversation. She was already peeling off her jeans. _Jeans._

_Bella Jean is not my lover . . . She's just a girl who claims that I am the one . . ._

"What's so funny?" she asked, climbing on top of me. _Naked, soft, girl._

I shook my head and reached for her. "You're soft. Nothing's funny."

"Tsk tsk tsk." She wagged her finger and pinned my hands to my sides. "I'm driving, remember?"

_Don't let her tie you up, _said the buzzkiller. I was inclined to listen, but until the rope or knife or gun came out, I was planning to enjoy the ride. "You're a little bit of a freak, aren't you?" My words were sloppy, but she got the message.

"Maybe, but I don't get many complaints."

I'd just learned two things: this girl had experience, and even better, she was good. Her knuckles hit my fly while her fingers worked open the buttons. I pulled in a deep, happy breath. _You, sir, are about to get laid._

_Yo, dude, protection!_

I lifted my head off the bed just as her lips touched down on my belly. A swish of a tongue. Fingers. Teeth. Lower. Hey, I'm naked. _Damn! What was I saying?_

My head fell back and bounced. _Oh yes, condom. Crap. _I mustered the strength to raise my head again, and wouldn't you know it? The girl was rolling the condom over my stiffie.

_My blessed saint. Saint Bella Jean of the One Night Stand._

The bed shifted left, right, left, right. My body was a canoe tossed on a stormy sea. Her knee at my hip, and then the other. My hands on her thighs as she lowered herself onto my lap. Soft skin. So soft.

"Play with my nipples," she said, showing me what to do with her own fingers. I took over the rolling and pinching, fascinated with the tiny buds but even more so by her sex face. She threw her head back and rolled back and forth over my dick like a shoeshine brush polishing a pair of wingtips. _Ah, fuck yeah, polish my knob . . ._

I held back a million things I was desperate to say. _Thank you. Faster. Slower. Harder. Enough torture! Take me inside you! _ All these things I kept inside, worried I might break the spell.

She lifted her hips and rearranged things, and then she was sinking, squeezing, riding me. She covered my hands with hers. "Harder! Harder!" She demanded; I produced. The room turned into an echo chamber of sex sounds—slapping flesh and grunted, urgent requests, gasps, groans and whimpers.

Hot fluid spurted out and pooled in the latex reservoir. She rode me to the last, trotting the horse back to the barn for his cooldown. I had to remind myself to breathe.

"God, that was amazing." I looked up into her smile. "Oh, you didn't . . .?"

She gently pried my hands off her tits and lifted her right leg up and over. "It's okay. I hardly ever do. Don't get weird. It's not a big deal." She had already hopped into her jeans, underwear and all.

"Wait, wait . . ." I put my elbows under me and pushed, but I was jello, not a bone to be found.

She stuffed her bra inside her purse—where there hopefully wasn't a gun, because now would have been just the right time for her to use it—and pulled her shirt around her shoulders. "Thanks for dinner and for this. I had a nice time."

Oh god, she was leaving. I'd just fucked a girl whose last name I didn't even know, and apparently, I'd done a shit job of it.

_Told you,_ gloated the buzzkill.

Bella gave me one last glance as she pulled her purse strap over her shoulder. "Good luck in the bingo hall tomorrow. Give my love to your mother."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Well, I guess that answers a few questions. Bella Jean doesn't seem to be asking for money, nothing too kinky happened there, and Edward's not dead. Shall we see how it goes in the morning?

I want to thank you all for your reviews, which leave me either chuckling or thinking harder about my characters (two of my favorite activities!). And thanks so much to **Fic Sisters **and** The International House of Fan Fiction** for their lovely review of this story, which can be found on their blog at **ficsisters (dot com)**. To real life Bella Jean, don't go upstairs with strangers, okay? ;)

**XXX ~BOH**


	4. Chapter 4

*** CHAPTER 4 ***

Seven twenty-five a.m. was not a welcome sight—and neither was my reflection—but disappointing Ma would have been unforgivable. If not for Bella's awkward departure, I'm sure I would've rolled over and fallen sound asleep without setting my alarm, brushing my teeth, or even peeling off the sticky condom. A sobering thought for a sobering man.

I showered and slapped on my Nautica aftershave. Fake it 'til you make it. Hopefully, I'd be making it by dinner tonight.

I knocked softly on Ma's door and waved to the peephole. Click of a deadbolt, slide of a chain, creaky opening of a door—just a crack, and the appearance of an eyeball.

"Morning, birthday girl." I slid her card into the gap, and she swung open the door and stepped into the hallway.

"Aww, thank you, dear. I'll open it at breakfast." She looked up from the envelope and did a double take when she saw my face. "You didn't sleep well."

"I love you too, Ma."

The elevator doors opened, and I saw my blush reflected on all three mirrored walls. _Yeah, that happened._

Ma was quiet, turning the envelope over and over in her hands, watching the numbers tick their way down. Thankfully, the doors opened on floor twenty-six, and a family with two loud kids and five huge suitcases filled up the silence.

We had the dubious distinction of being first in line when the Festival Buffet opened at 7:45. Avoiding Ma's all-knowing gaze was awkward at best once we sat down in the booth. I busied myself with the choreography of coffee preparation while she opened her card. She loved the mushy ones, the kind a guy less secure in his masculinity might feel like a pussy buying. Ma did me the great favor of reading this one to herself. Her eyes were teary when she finished.

"Thank you, son."

"Welcome. Ready to hit the buffet?"

I piled two plates with the greasiest hangover cures available—pancakes swimming in butter and syrup, bacon and sausage, home fries, and wet scrambled eggs. Ma barely paused the spoonful of oatmeal heading toward her mouth as my overly heaped dishes hit the table across from her. "Eating for two this morning? Something you need to tell me, Edward?"

My heart raced for a second while I scythed through my memories. _Yes, we used a condom, thank God._ "Yes. Congratulations! You're going to be a grandma."

"Oh, you do love to tease your old Ma."

_Oh great. Here it comes . . ._

"You know, Edward, I'm not getting any younger."

"Yes, you are. You're getting younger every day." I glanced around the restaurant and located a young waiter setting up a table across the room. "See that guy over there? He was checking out your ass while you were at the buffet."

She knew I was putting her on, but she looked anyway, turning back with a grin. "That's gross. He's younger than you."

"Hey, gotta keep up with the times. Cougars are the new thirty. When you got it, you got it." I picked up a long piece of bacon and bit off a big chunk, hoping to distract her with my bad manners. "And I hope you're getting it."

"My sex life is none of your concern, young man."

Shoving the rest of the bacon into my mouth, I delivered the coup de grâce. "But I was hoping to have some little half-siblings before I turned forty."

Mom set down her spoon, grabbed her napkin off her lap, and waved the thing back and forth across the table. "I surrender! Touché!"

"Awesome. And Ma, don't worry. When I meet the right girl, you will be . . . like, the fifth person to know."

*** BINGO ***

You can't walk through the public spaces of the Foxwoods compound without passing reminders of where your hard-earned dollars are about to go. Large-scale metal sculptures, majestic wood carvings, native design elements woven into furnishings and lights, and impressive cloth teepees literally line the hallways. There are gift shops selling moccasins and blankets, native-themed jewelry, knick-knacks one can't possibly live without. There's a museum if you're so inclined, but I doubt many are. They're not really here for the culture; they're here to win.

Fifteen generations and at least as many lawsuits after the New England colonists slaughtered or enslaved most of the original Pequot tribe in 1636, the United States Congress officially recognized the Mashantucket Pequot Tribe, opening the door to enterprise and land ownership. In 1986, bingo was introduced to the good people of New England, who flocked to a 1,200-seat tent at the end of a long, dark, unmarked road to try their luck. Today, the Foxwoods Resort and Casino boasts 6,500 slot machines, 2,200 hotel rooms, 350 table games, two spas, and two golf courses. The bingo hall holds 3,600 souls who, for the most part, end up returning one chip at a time to the Native Americans what their forefathers brutally took almost 400 years ago—proof that God appreciates irony.

The bingo hall was a short distance from the buffet—not a coincidence. Ma took off like a blue streak, her leather bingo bag—complete with multi-colored bonkers stuffed into pouches around the outside—bouncing off her hip with every stride of her right leg. I had to jog just to keep up.

"Hey, I could've gotten hit by a truck, and you'd never know it."

"Sure I would," she answered, not slowing down even a tick. "I have the CNN app on my iPhone. I'm sure you would've made the news."

"Real nice, Ma."

She shooed away my whining with a dismissive wave and hitched her bag higher on her shoulder.

I kissed my manhood goodbye. "Want me to carry that?"

Finally, I'd found the magic button to get her to slow down. "You'd do that?"

"Of course."

"That'd be great." She gave me a warm smile, handed me her bag, and took off twice as fast for the cashier cage.

"Yes, I'll take four packs, and . . . how many cards do you think you can handle, Edward?"

"I don't know . . . ten maybe?"

Ma burst out laughing. "Have you been sneaking trips down here without my knowledge?"

"Um, no."

"He'll take three."

Fewer than my sixty-year-old mother? Hell no. "We'll take eight, please." I shouldered my way in front of Ma, shifting her bag to the other side so I could reach my wallet.

"Wow. That is a great bag."

_Oh, fuck me. _It was _her_. Now what? Were we strangers? Old friends? I'd follow her lead and pray she wouldn't throw me under the bus. Ma didn't need to know her son was a slut—and a terrible lay.

"Seriously, where'd you get that? Mine only holds two bonkers."

"Um, it's not mine."

"You stole it?" Bella asked, blinking at me with the most innocent puppy-dog eyes.

"What? No, it's my mother's."

Ma patted me on the back. "Oh, Edward, I think the girl is teasing you." She took the bag off my shoulder and offered it to Bella for a closer look. "I bought it on eBay."

"Sir? That's $240."

"Oh, sorry." The cashier took my card, and I kept my ears on the conversation behind me.

". . . six zippered pouches inside . . ." Ma was turning her bag inside out for Bella, who was riveted.

Packs in hand, I grabbed Ma's elbow. "Okay, Ma, all set."

Bullet dodged.

"Lovely meeting you, dear. We'll save you a seat inside."

_Or not_.

Bella smiled sweetly. "Thanks anyway, but I have my regular place. I'm a wee bit superstitious."

_Of course you are_. I was so grateful, I could've kissed the girl—on the cheek. "Well . . . good luck," I said, pulling on Ma.

"We'll wait." Ma planted her feet and gave me _the look._

Protesting would only make her suspicious. The long day ahead just got longer.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Now, what are the chances of that meetup? Gosh, I love fanfic! *wink*

**XXX ~BOH**


	5. Chapter 5

*** CHAPTER 5 ***

The room was disturbingly well populated, considering we still had almost a two-hour wait for the first game. Bella charged forward to wherever she was going with Ma right by her side. The two were yammering like long lost friends. It was only a matter of time now.

_"So, hey, I picked up your son in a bar last night."_

_"Oh, do tell, dear."_

_"Yeah, he got a bit trashed on tequila shots and took me back to his room."_

_"No kidding! How was it?"_

_"Well, to be honest—"_

"Edward! _Edward!_ I swear, sometimes you get lost inside that head of yours."

"Sorry, Ma. What is it?"

She gave me that long-suffering look and reached her hand to my shoulder. "My bag, please? I need to get set up."

"Oh, sure. Sorry."

Bella was already busy whipping supplies out of her bag. I watched with great fascination as she expertly arrayed the day's provisions in a perfect arc across the table: bonkers in four different colors, tissues, power bars, eye drops, nasal spray, almonds, Starbursts, three huge bottles of blue Gatorade, a thirty-two-ounce bottle of Poland Springs water, and a cat figurine with one raised paw.

"Wow."

She cocked her eyebrows at my dumbfounded expression. "Yes?"

_Great_. I was no better than a Peeping Tom spying on her private stash. "That's . . . um, impressive."

She shook her head and chuckled.

"What's that cat all about?"

"Oh, my maneki-neko?" She grasped the figurine by the head and tweaked it with a series of minute adjustments until she was satisfied it was positioned just right along the imaginary arc. "He's a Japanese money cat. See how he's beckoning with his right hand?"

"You mean waving?"

She gave me the kind of smile a kindergarten teacher might give a slow student. "That's not waving in Eastern cultures. That's how they gesture for 'Come here.'"

"Ah." I pointed to the coin covering the cat's privates. "He's saying, 'Come to the kitty, money.' I get it."

"Basically." She checked me to see if I was making fun of her. I wasn't. Satisfied, she decided to tease me, apparently one of her favorite new activities. "Don't you have a good luck charm?" she asked.

"No, I don't believe in luck."

Bella sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. Fortunately, I found her know-it-all grin totally adorable. "Not at all?"

Now we were squarely in my comfort zone for the first time since I'd met her. "Luck is a concept that explains good or bad fortune using a force outside of oneself. Life is a series of choices we make, for better or for worse—"

"For richer or poorer . . ." she interjected with that gleeful twinkle.

"Yes, well . . . as I was saying, there are probabilities that certain things will occur, tables and algorithms to predict the likelihood—"

Ma squeezed my elbow and gave me a stern look. "Sit down, Edward."

Chastised, I sank into the chair two to the right of Bella, but Ma beat me to it. Like a champion musical chairs player, she bumped me sideways so forcefully I overshot the chair with my whole left side, requiring an act of acrobatics to keep from falling into Bella's lap.

"Sorry," I muttered. With the bright fluorescent lighting, there was no way Bella missed my pink cheeks. I turned and gave Ma a hurt look, which she pointedly ignored.

"Here, Edward. Why don't you set up your spot?" Ma handed me the green bonker and four packs of cards.

I made a neat two-by-two rectangle and stood up the bonker where I could easily reach it. I stole another look at Bella as she set her sixth pack into place. _Six? _

_What the hell? _Surely, I could handle as many as she could. I worked with numbers all day. How hard could it be? I popped out of my chair with a "be right back" to Ma.

I returned five minutes later and slapped down my fifth and sixth sets of cards. Bella's lips curled up at the corners when she glanced over, but she kept her thoughts to herself—which is more than I can say for Ma.

"Oh, Edward, you can't follow six cards. This is a fast-paced game!"

I leaned in so Bella wouldn't hear. "I got this, Ma. Don't worry about it."

She sighed and shook her head. I checked my watch. 8:53. I turned to my left and to my right. Bella and Ma were both busily checking their phones. How the hell were we supposed to entertain ourselves for an hour and a half doing absolutely nothing?

I cleared my throat. Ma looked over. "So, now what?"

"What do you mean, 'now what'? We wait."

"We just sit here?"

"I'm reading. Don't you have a kindle app on your phone?"

"Um . . . no."

She sighed again and riffled through her bag. "I have _Cosmo, Vanity Fair, Glamour, Better Homes & Gardens_ . . . what would you like?"

"None of the above."

"Stubborn, just like your father. Suit yourself."

A voice came from my left. "Why don't you familiarize yourself with the instructions? The games can get pretty complicated, and when things get heated . . ."

"I think I'm good with bingo. I learned to play about thirty years ago, thanks."

Bella smirked and locked eyes for a second with Ma. "Okay."

*** BINGO ***

A hush fell over the room as the caller took his place at the mike. Frankly, I was so happy to have something—_anything —_to do besides rereading my emails for the twelfth time, I would have to admit to a jolt of adrenaline. But not like Ma and Bella.

The two of them grabbed a bonker in each hand and drew themselves up ramrod straight in their chairs. Ma called over a cordial, "Good luck," across me to her partner in vice, and Bella returned the greeting.

It took me all of three numbers called to realize I was way out of my league trying to follow six cards. What Bella accomplished with a graceful ballet of hands, I stumbled through like an elephant on heroin—unfortunately, without the legendary perfect memory to compensate.

"I-25, I-25," I repeated while searching for G-58, but by the time I'd checked the last card, there was already another number called. "I-25, N-36, I-25, N-36."

"Shhh!" Mom's scolding held no sympathy.

I plowed on, skipping every third number to stay afloat. My heart was pounding so fast, when someone yelled out, "Bingo," it was a goddamn relief.

"Just play three cards," Ma advised. Then, seeing my hang-dog expressions, she added, "Until you get the hang of it."

_No way the famous Cullen pride would allow for training wheels at this point in the game. _

Beside me, Bella unscrewed her Gatorade, took a small swig, replaced the cap, and repeated the sequence with her water. She gave her wrists a vigorous shake-out, grabbed her bonkers, and readied herself for the next battle.

"Heeeere we go, folks! B-3. B-3."

I was determined to stay ahead of it this time. I trained my gaze to slide vertically down the cards, making two long trips for each number called.

_Bonk, bonk._

"G-47. G-47."

_Bonk, bonk . . . bonk! _I was doing this!

"O-69. O-69."

_Bonk . . ._

To my left, I head a sultry whisper. "_Oh_, sixty-niiiiine!"

_Bonk . . . _I ignored Bella and the sly smirk I caught out of the corner of my eye.

"B-4. B-4."

_Damn! _I hadn't checked my last two cards.

And there was that voice again, loud enough only for my ears. "Before sixty-nine, after sixty-nine."

Yep, she was torturing me, all right, and not missing a beat. I darted the nastiest look I could muster, and she smiled and grazed her tongue along her lower lip.

Blasted bingo vixen!

"I-18. I-18."

_Crap, I was still on B-4. _Hopelessly behind after the next number, I gave in and dropped down to the three cards in the left column. Better to chance hearing all the numbers on half the cards than half the numbers on all the cards, said the statistician in me.

"G-53. G-53."

Nope, nope, nope.

_BONK! _Bella reached over my cards and bonked the G-53 on the top right card.

"Hey!"

"Shhh!" Mom hissed.

"Cut that out!" I whisper-yelled at Bella.

"Sorr-ree! Looked like you could use some help there."

"I saw that! I was just about to—"

_BONK! _Ma hit me from the other side, and I heard Bella try to stifle a giggle.

"Ma! Seriously?"

"Pay attention!"

I'm one of those "slow to anger" types, but these two and their inappropriate bonking were starting to get on my nerves. I staged a protest, a sit-in. I set down the bonker and slumped back in my chair, crossed my arms and fixed the meanest possible scowl on my face.

Without saying a word, Bella and Ma took over my cards, splitting them right down the middle while I sat there like a eunuch watching them bonk their guts out.

"Would you two like to get a room?" I asked.

Bella's head whipped around, flashing me a _you-seriously-went-there, _jaw-dropped grin, complete with a matched set of raised eyebrows.

_Bonk . . . bonk, bonk, bonk . . ._

"Edwaaaard! Shhh!" Ma scolded again in a clipped whisper.

I glanced at my watch and sighed. Four hours and thirty-seven minutes to go.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Before I go one word further, I need to acknowledge **Jill Peterson** for opening a truly illuminating window onto the crazy shit that goes on in the bingo hall! I seriously had no idea about the mechanics of a session or the madness that ensues. I asked a few (okay, a zillion) questions; Jill poured out bingo lore like the massive fountain at Foxwoods filled with pennies. More surprises ahead, thanks to her willingness to share. Had this story not been a surprise for PAD, I surely would've asked her advice, and if you have a chance to go through and read her reviews...you'll see how much I left on the table. But then, this was not meant to be my second career! And let's never forget the lovely and talented plot coach-slash-bannerer **Ladyeire** and the lady who makes all the words fit better, the wise and wonderful **Chayasara**.

One thing I have witnessed firsthand is the superstition among all kinds of casino rats. On Jill's suggestion, I took the idea of a good luck charm and embellished to include my memories from the CPA exam, wherein the man next to me had three water bottles, an open nasal spray, a six-pack of throat lozenges, and a box of tissues. (YUCK) The Japanese good luck cat is posted in the patch. Hope you all enjoyed this bonus "SNOW DAY" post! :*

**xxx ~BOH**


	6. Chapter 6

*** CHAPTER 6 ***

The only way to keep their bonkers off my cards and hold onto the remnants of my manhood was to admit defeat, but it was well worth it not to have them reaching over me and humiliating me at every turn. Tail between my legs, I tucked the right column under the left and tried not to think about my odds cutting in half. The day wore on; my confidence grew. By noon, I was bonking with the best of them—fewer cards, but holding my own. So of course, it was time for a monkey wrench to get thrown into the works.

"Who wants a quickie?" the caller asked.

Every hand in the room went up—including Ma's. I shielded the right side of my face to avoid even peripheral eye contact. There were certain things a guy didn't need to know about his Ma.

"You're not playing?" Bella asked.

"Playing?"

She chuckled and shook her head, and before I could protest, Bella grabbed my hand and raised it in the air.

"What are we doing?" I asked her.

"It's a buck a game, one card apiece. They call out a number every five seconds. Think you can keep up?"

I puffed out my chest. "I'm in."

"Good man," she said. "Tell you what, this one's on me." Bella leaned across my spot. "Happy birthday, Esme."

"Oh, thank you, dear. You're too sweet. Isn't she sweet, Edward?"

I wasn't sure what she was, but I nodded and mmhmm'ed. The floor workers came around, passing out cards and collecting money. I watched how Bella and Ma cleared a space for the new card and grabbed a bonker in each hand. _Well, no wonder they could keep up and I couldn't_.

"Ma, can I borrow one of your bonking things?"

Ma smirked. "You're gonna use two?"

"Yes, Mother. I have two hands, don't I?"

She shrugged. "Knock yourself out."

I stole another glance at Bella's impressive pose—she looked like our chocolate lab Hank just before he took off on a squirrel chase. I lifted my bonkers over the card and committed the first column to memory. _You got this!_

"Here we go, gang. I-29."

Damn, nope.

"B-5."

"Yes!"

"Shhhh!" This time the shushing came from behind me.

"O-72."

"B-12."

"Yes!"

_Whack! _Something clunked the back of my head—hard. "OUCH!"

"O-64."

_Fuck! Oh! I have that! Bonk!_

I made a quick turn to see what had hit me and found an open bonker lying on the ground next to my chair. Yellow, no less. _What the—_

"N-33."

Checking my card first, I swiveled around to look for a guilty face in the crowd.

"B-11."

I knew without looking that I didn't have that one, so I had a few seconds to search the faces at the table behind me . . . a scraggly-haired, middle-aged woman was glaring at me. _That has to be her!_

"N-45." _Bonk!_

I spun around and glowered at the little witch who'd beaned me. She gave me the finger.

"O-68." _Bonk! _Only one more for bingo!

"B-1." _Damn._

"Bingo!"

The call from across the room was met with loud groans from the rest of us. I picked up the bonker at my feet, made a show of setting it on the table in front of me, mouthed "thanks" to the bitch who threw it, and gave her a cold smile topped off with a little salute.

"Making new friends?" Bella was smirking at me.

"Is that normal behavior? Throwing things at people's heads? It's like the wild west in here."

Ma answered for her. "You have to keep quiet, Edward. Everyone's concentrating and trying to hear the caller, and there's a lot of money on the line. You can't be babbling to yourself like a crazy person."

"_What_? I'm the crazy person now?"

Bella gave me one of those if-the-shoe-fits shrugs, but the next game was about to begin.

*** BINGO ***

"Here's a Foxwoods favorite, folks . . . you guessed it; we're making the letter 'F'! That's one line down the left-hand side and two straight lines across lines one and three. Everyone ready? Good! Annnnd I-19, I-19."

_Bonk!_

"N-36, N-36."

_Bonk!_

Two for two. The adrenaline coursed through my system as I matched five of the next eight numbers. Even though a couple of the squares wouldn't come into play, the odds were piling up in my favor.

"B-6, B-6."

"Yes!" Fuck that bitch behind me; I had my whole vertical and was one away from making my "F"!

"N-43, N-43."

"YES! BINGO!" I jumped out of my seat, bonkers raised to the sky in perfect field goal formation.

Mom tugged on my sleeve. "Edward, sit down! They can see you just fine."

"We have a bingo called on N-43."

"Ma, I got bingo!"

"Yes, dear, we all heard you."

"Um . . . Edward?" Bella was up on both elbows, hovering over my card. "You don't have bingo."

"What do you mean? I have an F!"

The verifier took one look over my shoulder and shook her head. "No bingo!" she called across the room.

Amid the rumble of shunning that swept through the room, one voice carried to my ears, loud and clear. "Nice job, asshole." I could feel the witch's eyes on the back of my head where she'd hit me. I gave my head a rub, extending my middle finger for her.

"What do you mean, no bingo? I have an F! A post and two sideways lines!"

"Sir, you have to go all the way to the O column."

"What?"

"You didn't read the instructions, did you?" Bella chided me, shaking her head and readying her bonkers for action.

"So, wait, am I out of it now, or can I still win this game?"

The floor person leaned in and said, "Officially, you are still eligible, but I really wouldn't advise it at this point."

"You wouldn't advise it? What does that mean?"

She glanced around at the angry mob all around us and spelled it out. "From a _se-cur-i-ty_ perspective."

I stared at her long enough to determine she was dead serious. She gave me a severe nod before walking away, comfortable she'd carried out her official and unofficial duties in the matter.

I looked down at my card. I only needed four more numbers to win. What a damn shame. "Ma, you should take my card. Nobody'd yell at an ol—at a woman of your stature."

Ma raised her eyebrows at me. _Whoops. _"No thank you, dear. I'll just stick with what I've got here."

"I'll take it, but I'm not trading you," Bella offered.

I twisted in my chair. "So I'm just giving you my card? For nothing in return?"

She blinked at me, unreadable as ever. "If you want." Damn, she really didn't seem to care either way.

I pushed my card into her little bingo temple. "Fine."

Without a word, Bella slid the card into place.

"And we're going again on the 'F' formation. That's all the way to column O, for those of you who might be _new_ here. I-17. I-17."

It seemed like a really great time to use the men's room.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> If you want to see a picture of a bonker, Google "dauber." They're basically just big fat paint markers.

NOW...who wants to go play some Bingo at Foxwoods? I think Postapocalyptic and Jill P should lead a fanfic tour group. Could you even begin to imagine such madness? Hmmm, I can and have. We could even have brekkie at the nearby Festival buffet! Yes, I am serious. Let me know if you are and I'll put together a facebook group. Let the mad boinking begin!

Your reviews on this story have me laughing out loud, and I'm so happy if the story has YOU laughing out loud. Guest reviewers, thank you for being here too! I can't reply, and sometimes the guest reviews slip through the cracks because of the way fanfic slides them later, but the ones I'm seeing are making me grin. See you next weekend...and GO PATS!  
><strong>XXX ~BOH<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

*** CHAPTER 7 ***

"Hey, Ma, you remember that book we used to read together, _Put Me In the Zoo_?"

She continued packing up her supplies while she answered me, returning each bonker to its allotted slot as if tucking in a child. "Of course. The ambiguous creature who does all those tricks with his brightly colored spots. You loved that story."

I held out my multi-colored hands, and we both laughed. "Do you think he came from the bingo hall?"

"Should we swing by the Beardsley zoo on the way home tonight? Maybe they have a 24-hour depository."

"I don't think I'd fit through the drop-off slot, but thanks. Besides, I can't juggle."

"No, you never really mastered the whole hand-eye coordination thing," she said with a chuckle.

Years of failure on little league diamonds came rushing back, bringing with them the sting of humiliation that never quite went away. "Thanks for the reminder, Ma."

"Aww, I'm sorry." She stopped gathering her supplies to pat my hand. "You're good at so many other things. I thought you were over all that by now."

"Gee thanks." I tried to shrug her off, in no way wanting to prolong our time in this room, but Ma was stuck in the moment.

She reached for my arm and gave me a gentle squeeze. "You're a good sport, son, sitting through a whole bingo session. I had a wonderful time. I hope it wasn't too torturous." Ma peeked around my shoulder and gave her eyebrows a playful wiggle.

"Subtle you are not, Mother."

To that, she rolled her eyes. "I know a nice girl when I see one."

I bit my lip.

Ma took my silence as an invitation to lean in and whisper in my ear. "Do you want to invite her to dinner?"

I pulled Ma two steps away from Bella. The last thing I needed was for her to hear my mother going on about fixing us up. "I'm sure she already has plans. It's Friday night."

"How are you ever going to know if you don't ask?"

"Ma," I said, distracting her with my most charming son smile, "I already have a date tonight."

"Pshhh. Oh, _Edward! _What am I gonna do with you?"

"Well, I suggest you let me scrub this shi—paint off my hands, put on a button-down and my serious shoes, and after that, let me escort you to your favorite spot for your special birthday dinner."

"Fine, fine, okay. I can take a hint."

I couldn't help my guffaw. "I hinted about seven hours ago, but who's counting?"

"Sue me!"

_Remember the part where you were trying not to be a jerk to your mother today?_

"Look, it's fine. I'm just ready to go, okay?"

Ma studied me one last time, searching for any slight hint I might change my mind. I held my ground. I was not about to have my mother fix me up with my one-night stand.

She let out a soft sigh as her system accepted the defeat. I released her from my stern glare.

"Am I at least permitted to say goodbye to my new friend?"

It wasn't exactly a question. I stepped out of her path before she knocked me over.

"Bella, dear, it's been an absolute pleasure."

She turned at Ma's hand on her back, lighting up the room with her smile. "It sure has. So great to meet you, Esme." Craning her neck around my mother, she added, "You too, Edward."

I waved and nodded and blushed.

Bella clasped Ma's hands between her own. "Too bad we couldn't get you that birthday bingo today," Bella said.

"Oh, fie," Ma said, "it's a thrill just to be here. It's not always about the bingo, don't ya know?"

Bella's gaze shifted to mine for one painful fraction of a second before returning to my mother's. "I sure do." _I had a nice time. It's okay. I hardly ever do . . . _"It's the thrill of the adventure that brings us back."

My blush deepened.

"Indeed, indeed. Bring me back it always does."

"Well, I hope next time you're here, you'll come find me. I'm always in the same spot. I've worked out the feng shui."

I schooled my face hard; an eyeroll was only going to earn me serious trouble.

"Oh, I think we can go one better than that, dear." Ma was digging in her bag . . . _what is she_ . . .? "Let's make a plan, shall we?"

Holy shit! My mother was making a date with MY GIRL!

"Love to!" Bella answered. "When will you be back?"

To add insult to injury, Ma turned back to press her bingo bag into my arms. I swear a coy smile crossed her lips just before she asked, "Hold this for me, would you, dear?"

I cradled the bag as it hit my belly. What else could I do but stand there passively like some mute, emasculated valet while she and Bella compared calendars and exchanged numbers?

"Wonderful! It's a date!" The two hugged at the end of the surreal exchange. Ma reached a hand behind her for her bag, avoiding my glare at all costs, and moved toward the exit.

_Hello, awkward goodbye._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I hope you all enjoyed that silly story _Put Me in the Zoo_ as much as I did as a kid and then as a parent! Poor multi-colored Bonkward has to be alone with Bella Jean once more. Oh dear! Thanks for your patience while fanfic was out of commission yesterday. MWAH!

**XXX ~BOH**


	8. Chapter 8

*** CHAPTER 8 ***

Bella tucked her phone into her back pocket and gave me that same carefree smile I'd seen before she'd left my room. "So, did we turn you into a bingo aficionado?"

"Ha! Hardly."

She chuffed. I added a hasty, "No offense or anything."

"No offense taken. Clearly, it's not your thing. You're a good guy to do that for your mom."

There was no way to hide my blush now. "You were sweet to her. Thanks. And also . . . thanks for not . . . you know." _God. _I looked down at the carpet and bit my tongue before I said anything worse.

"Hey, I like Esme. And what we did last night, that's between us. What happens at Foxwoods . . ."

My head shook on its way up. I was about to say more than I wanted to, and there didn't seem to be a damn thing I could do to stop it.

"It's great you're so cool with it, but . . . I don't usually . . . I haven't _ever_ . . .that's just not me."

"Did you just call me a whore?"

"Oh my god, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean there was anything wrong with it, just that I've personally never—"

"Relax," she said, grabbing my arm and stepping in way too close. "I'm kidding."

She giggled while I clutched my heart. I wasn't going to forgive her, but then she batted her eyelashes behind those dark-rimmed glasses.

I let out a long sigh they probably heard across the room. "You know you're killing me, right?"

"Yeah, well . . . maybe you kill me a little too."

_Whoa. _Was that a blush on _her_ face? Just when I was about to file away this whole experience as a crazy, hot, one-night stand, Bella became a real girl. With that first, tiny shard of vulnerability, she sliced me wide open.

Which is probably why I said the stupidest thing I'd said yet. "I do?"

She lifted her hand to my cheek and ran her thumb across my lips. "Hell, yes."

The room tilted. I gulped and swallowed. We stared at each other through her lenses for what felt like hours. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her to kiss me.

She smiled at me. "You know, it's not a one-night stand if you do it the next day."

I gulped again. I had to close my eyes, but that turned out to be a huge mistake. Images from last night bombarded me—her crashing against me in the elevator, her head kissing its way down my belly, _"play with my nipples" . . . _

_How much time do we have before dinner? _

_Who ARE you?_

I shook my head until most of the horny thoughts fell out, leaving me with a dull roar I could probably manage. "I know this is going to sound really . . . old-fashioned or something, but I think I really like you."

"You think?"

"See, that's the thing. I don't know. I don't know you, but I'd really like to."

She smiled, different from the coy, teasing smiles I'd seen up to this point. I'd caught her off guard, and that's what she finally was—utterly unguarded. Just like me.

I clasped her hand against my cheek and found the other one by her side. My fingers tangled with hers, locking us together. "I really want to kiss you," I said.

Her smile widened. "Okay," she whispered back. And for once, she waited for me to make the move.

I closed the distance between our lips. Unrushed and unclouded by alcohol, I tasted the girl in front of me for the first time. My eyes closed again as our mouths and hearts opened to each other. Without the cover of the casual quickie, we allowed ourselves the exquisite joy of risking everything.

_Huh. Me, taking on risk. How about that?_

I pulled back from our kiss, enjoying the view of her lips forming a most beautiful smile almost as much as I'd enjoyed the taste. "That was nice."

She agreed, letting me know with a low purr.

"What's your last name, Bella Jean?"

"Your mom's got it in her phone."

"You're really going to make me ask my mother?"

She shrugged. This one was a challenge. I liked that.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"No, Edward. I'm easy."

She had a point there.

"Are you planning to give me a hard time when I call to ask you out?"

"Only if you wait too long."

"I won't."

"Speaking of waiting . . ." She nodded toward the door.

"Somehow, I don't think Ma will mind if I kiss you one more time."

Bella giggled as I went in for another kiss. I was greedier this time, now that I knew it would be a while until my next one.

Still holding hands, we turned toward the exit and took a few dizzy steps together. I couldn't feel the floor beneath my feet.

Bella cut through the giddy high. "So, you sure you don't want to get lucky tonight?"

I squeezed her hand and chuckled. "I'm sure I already have."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Hope you're smiling as wide as I am. I have an epilogue for you, and this one is told. Thank you all for being here and leaving me your very interesting reviews!

If anyone is interested in the BOH behind the story, you can check out this interview by A Different Forest, which posted yesterday. My understanding is you can read the interview but can't leave a comment unless you have an account. **(www dot) ****adifferentforest (dot net slash) Campfires/30673 **

Thank you all for your support! :)  
><strong>XXX ~BOH<strong>


	9. EPILOGUE

*** EPILOGUE ***

_Esme's POV:_

They emerged through the massive doors hand in hand, punch drunk on each other. My son looked happier than I'd ever seen him. When a mother knows, a mother knows. Still, it wouldn't do to leave something this important to chance.

That's where I come in. It's true; a mother's work is never done.

"Oh dear, Edward, it looks like you've transferred your spots. They may have to take you both at the zoo now."

Edward grinned. "That's all you have to say, Ma?"

The two of them made lovey-dovey eyes before turning back to me.

"Looks like we'll need to change the reservation?"

"What do you say, Bella? Will you join us for dinner at Alta Strada?"

"Oh, I uh . . . don't really have anything to wear."

"You look great," Edward answered. "I don't need to change either."

Okay, Edward not changing for dinner? My boy had it real bad for this girl.

Bella bit her lip and looked up at me. _Huh, when did she turn shy_? I wondered. "I wouldn't want to intrude on your birthday dinner."

"Don't be silly, dear. We'd love to have you."

"Thanks, Esme. That's really sweet. I'd love to join you."

"Why don't we walk over there right now, and I'll talk to the maître d'," Edward said.

"Sure. Work your Cullen magic on him."

Smiles all around.

The three of us shuffled down the endless halls. What was the rush? Young love was in the air. _Sigh_. I trained my eyes forward, but I could feel the heat those kids were pumping out between them. I remembered that tingle so vividly, that over-the-moon buzz the first time Carlisle took my hand in his. _Sigh_.

"Well, we're here." Edward shot Bella a look so full of longing, it tore at my heart strings. The boy was stalling, afraid to let her go. It was sickeningly cute.

This called for some good, old-fashioned ribbing. "You think you two will be okay separated for a couple seconds?"

"Ssssure," he said, drinking her in one last time before mustering the courage to go inside the restaurant alone. Poor kid; it was more than he could handle. He leaned in and stole a quick kiss. "Be right back. Ma, keep an eye on her for me?"

"Oh, don't worry, son. I won't let her out of my sight!"

Bella and I watched him go, following his form until Edward was well out of earshot.

I'd been so good, but the suspense was killing me. "_So?_"

Bella closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around her shoulders, and spun around in a circle. "You were right! He's amazing!"

"I knew you two would be perfect for each other. You're the yin to his yang."

"He's so sweet! And sexy! Oops, sorry! Forget I said that!"

I waved away the girl's concern. "Don't be silly. Of course he's sexy. He takes after his father."

"Thanks, but TMI!" Bella and I dissolved into giggles. "Listen, Esme, we need to tell him soon. I feel like this thing between us could be real, and I don't want to start with a lie."

"Are you sure you don't want to make sure he's completely snagged first? I'm all for telling the truth, but shouldn't we wait until the fish is fully hooked?"

"Uh . . . I think the worm has been swallowed. Oh god, I did not just say that to his mother."

"Oh, please. Mother shmother. You were my bingo babe well before you were my son's . . . worm or whatever."

Bella blushed beet red. She really was such a nice girl.

"All right, we'll do it at dinner," I said. "I'll let him order us a bottle of his favorite Brunello, and we'll get him nice and mellow, and then we'll just . . ."

"Spring it on him that we've been plotting this for months?"

I took her hands in mine, wet paint spots and all. "It's the most wonderful birthday gift ever. Poor Edward, where was he ever going to meet his true love, at an actuary convention?"

"Did someone mention an actuary convention?" Edward spread his arms around both of us and pulled us in for a group hug. _Someone _sure was in a good mood.

"Now, now, Edward," I said, "don't go getting yourself all hot and bothered."

"Too late, Ma."

Google eyes between the lovebirds again.

"Listen, are you two sure you want to have dinner with an old lady tonight? Maybe I should just excuse myself to the slot lounge and leave you to it."

"No!" They both answered at once, yanking me back into the little circle. "It's your birthday, Ma. We wouldn't think of it. Besides, you're the one who brought us together."

I pulled back, leaving my son draped over the shoulders of his new girl. "Wait, what?"

"Oh, come on, Mom. It's so obvious this never would've happened without your little loving interferences."

He always had the book smarts, but I never figured my son for a street smarts guy. Maybe I hadn't given him enough credit all these years. "You mean, you knew Bella and I planned this little meet-up?"

"You _and Bella_? _Planned_?" Edward stepped away from Bella, taking his hugs and moony eyes with him. _Uh-oh. _

Bella's eyes filled with terror. "No, it's not what you think, Edward."

"What do I think? That my mom planted a girl in a bar for me last night? No wonder it was so easy! It all makes so much more sense now!"

"What bar?" I asked. "You two met last night? _Easy?_"

Bella brought her hands up to cover her face. "This isn't happening."

"One thing I don't get, Ma. How'd you know I was going to Halo? There are at least thirty bars in this place."

"Can someone please tell me what's going on? Bella, what's this about last night?"

"I'm sorry, Esme," she said, her head still shaking like a wind-up toy. "And I'm sorry to you too, Edward."

"Jesus! Ma, what have you done?"

Bella cut in. "Let me explain . . . just give me a minute." She held up her hands, begging our patience while my son glowered at me. "Okay, Edward, you first. Your mother and I have been playing bingo together since last summer. We hit it off right away. She knew I'd just come off a bad breakup, and you were . . . available . . ."

Edward flinched at the generous description. He'd been available most of his thirty-six years.

"The more she and I got to know each other, the more she believed you and I might . . . work together. We made this plan . . ."

"Ma? Am I that pathetic?" I'd never seen my son look so hurt, and it was all my fault.

"No, sweetie, of course not." I reached for his arm, and he twisted away. "I worked it out with Bella so we'd meet this morning on the way into the bingo hall. I hoped you two would hit it off, but if not, we'd all just go on our merry way. I'm sorry for the deception. I truly am."

He turned his sad eyes on me. "You didn't tell her to meet me last night?"

"No! Of course not! That must've been . . ."

Edward harrumphed. "_Luck_? Please, Ma, don't try to sell me that crap." Twisting around to Bella, he poured out the rest of his anger. "You knew where we were staying. Your odds were pretty good picking Halo."

"Edward, I eat there every night. How do you think Jasper knew what I order on Thursdays?"

Her soft, reasonable voice had the desired effect. The bulging vein in his neck calmed down.

"I told you my name," he said. "You knew it was me."

"I knew before that. I'd seen your picture."

Edward glanced at me and shook his head sadly.

Bella grasped his hands again. "Don't be upset with your mom. I'm the one who took things too far last night. Only because I knew who you were. You think I . . ."—she shot me an embarrassed glance before continuing—"go upstairs with people I've just met?"

"Bella, I don't know what to think. And frankly, I was in no position to judge."

I bit my tongue—hard. This was theirs to work out, but I couldn't tear myself away.

"Fair enough," she answered. "But just so you know, I wouldn't have sat down near you, let alone . . . the rest. I don't do strangers."

Edward looked away, choked with his emotions. After a few long moments, he turned to me. "Ma, would you mind giving us a second here, please?"

I was relieved for the graceful exit. "Sure. Take your time."

I found myself a bench several feet down the hall and immersed myself in people watching. There was nothing quite like a Friday night Foxwoods crowd at that twilight hour, the transition from gaming to eating. I distracted myself with the parade of stroller-pushing parents, hand-holding couples, boisterous packs of Bruins fans gloating about the game, and the not-so-infrequent fights about gambling too much. Still, my gaze wandered to my son and the girl I'd come to care about.

Carlisle had taught me some of the many tricks he'd learned from long hours of reading body language in the poker room, but you wouldn't need an expert to interpret this pair. They were connected and yearning, sharing and listening intently, open to each other, eager to work things out. My hunch was right; these two were going to make it.

Apparently, they already had! _Oh, Esme, shame on you!_

"Hey, Ma."

"Oh! I didn't see you two come over. Everything okay now?"

Puppy dog eyes. Hand squeezes. Shy smiles. "Yes. We're good," Bella answered.

I stood up and pulled them both into a hug. "Excellent. Now, does anyone have any other secrets he or she would like to confess?"

Edward bristled. I knew that look. He was the world's worst liar.

"Edward? What is it?"

Bella pinched him in his side. "Talk, Cullen!"

"It's not that big a deal. I may have . . . uh . . . had a bingo I didn't call."

Bella and I gawped at each other. She pinched him again.

"Ouch! Stop that!"

"Thank you, Bella! Why on God's green earth would a son of mine not call a bingo?"

"I was kind of scared for my life."

Bella started laughing first, and soon all three of us were bent over holding our sides.

Wiping tears from my eyes, I asked the two of them, "May I make a suggestion, son?"

"Is there any way I could stop you?"

"No."

"Have at it, Ma."

"I was going to suggest that in the future, you do your bonking outside of the bingo hall."

"Ohhhh-kay, then. Thanks for the great advice."

"Welcome."

"And, Ma . . . thanks for my giving me the best gift ever on your birthday."

*** THE END ***

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So...Ma's a pimp but at least Bella's not a total slut. All's well that ends well? What do you think, did Ma overstep? Can we forgive her since it's her birthday? Here's the truth about this story: I have always wanted to try writing a story where the characters sleep together first and get to know each other second. So this story gave me a chance to play with that a bit.

I was not joking about getting a group together to play bingo at Foxwoods, so let me know here or over in my FB account if you're interested in joining us. I have a few brave souls signed up already! Meanwhile, one final shout out to my fantastic bingo team: **Ladyeire**, for prewriting, during writing, and postwriting brainstorm sessions as well as the crazy banner she whipped up in no time flat; **Jill Peterson** for her bingo expertise and filling in some of my huge gaps in understanding this crazy world my friend **Postapocalypticdepository **inhabits; and to my sweet **Chayasara** for putting everything in the right place and providing encouragement, inspiration, and a gentle kick in the pants when I miss the mark.

One last item as February comes to a close. I don't know if you're aware of the monthly polls put together by Joanne Riddy over at Twifanfictionrecs, but this year, she took all the monthly winners and combined them into one fantasmagoric list now being used to determine the **TOP TEN FICS OF 2014**! A major feat! I am fortunate to have three different stories on the poll, _**Remastering Marcus, Wrong Number, **_and my collabadrabble_ **Shake**_ (with Apoc). Of course I'd love you to vote for one of those, but really, voting for anything is a win for our fandom. Please take the time to show some love to your favorite stories while February gasps its final snowy breaths (dramatic much?). You can vote once each day, so that's six more votes for you! If you can decipher this link, here's where to vote: **twifanfictionrecs (dotcom) /2015/02/01/vote-for-your-top-10-fics-completed-in-2014/**

Thank you all for taking this little field trip into the mad, mad world of casino bingo, one-night stands, and wonderfully intrusive mothers with me.  
><strong>XXX ~BOH<strong>


End file.
